


No Greater Gift

by HermitLibrary_Archivist



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 03, Vila-whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-26
Updated: 2008-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4756799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitLibrary_Archivist/pseuds/HermitLibrary_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By Kathy Hintze</p>
<p>When Vila and Avon attempt to rob a sinister vault, Vila is badly injured by an anti-theft device.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Greater Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Judith and Aralias, the archivists: This story was originally archived at [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hermit_Library), which was closed due to maintenance costs and lack of time. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2015. We posted announcements about the move and emailed authors as we imported, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hermitlibrary/profile). 
> 
> This work has been backdated to 26th of May 2008, which is the last date the Hermit.org archive was updated, not the date this fic was written. In some cases, fics can be dated more precisely by searching for the zine they were originally published in on [Fanlore](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Main_Page).
> 
> **Original Author's Note:**
> 
> Previously published in 'Starlines 3' (multimedia, 1983). 
> 
> Also previously archived at Hammer to Fall.

"But we can't pass up a chance like this," cried Vila. "It comes once in a lifetime."

 "We?" replied Avon. "You mean you can't pass it up."

"It does sound tempting, Avon," acknowledged Cally. "Even to me."

Avon glanced at his companions as he pondered the possibility of such a raid. To rob the main offworld monetary center of the Federation Banking System was, as Cally said, tempting. The establishment supplied the funds for more than half the Federation operations in space. Take it and more than a few worlds would be angry. But, he thought, if I could make it appear that Servalan had stolen the funds? The very idea brought a wicked smile to his face.

"Oh," muttered Vila as he saw the smile. "I don't like the look of that."

"Do we go for it?" asked Tarrant impatiently.

Avon looked up. "Why not? Zen, course change for Mephisto. Speed--Standard by 6. Confirm with arrival time."

+Arrival time 8.5 hours.+

"Mephisto?" asked Dayna. "What kind of name is that?"

Vila smiled. "Mephisto was a marvelous magician some centuries ago. Had all sorts of clever tricks. Illusions of grand stature, they called them. I read a book about him when I was young. Marvelous man."

"We on Auron have heard the name, too, Vila. But we thought of him as a demon," murmured Cally.

Vila paled. "You didn't have to tell me that."

"Legends tend to grow with each telling, Cally. We require facts." Avon walked over to Orac and inserted the key. "Orac?"

"Must you constantly interrupt my studies with your pointless questions?" snapped the computer.

"Gracious as ever," remarked Avon. "Mephisto. What do you know about it?"

"The planet was explored by the Federation some forty years ago; however, the idea of colonization was discarded."

"Discarded?" asked Cally. "Why?"

"Because the life forms on the planet are carnivorous, including the local fauna," explained the computer. "Of the original explorers, a scant handful were able to escape."

"Sounds like a perfect place to avoid," muttered Dayna.

"Exactly," agreed Orac. "That is why the Federation Banking complex is located in the most heavily wooded area of the planet. At the time of its construction, a 3-mile area of the forest was leveled in what was considered to be a very costly venture. The structure was put up in a week's time at the cost of 10 lives. And since the system is entirely computerized...."

"There is no need to station troops there to protect the complex. The place itself takes care of trespassers," finished Avon, removing the key. "Thank you, Orac." Looking at the others, he added, "I suggest we get some rest. Particularly you, Vila. I want you awake for this job."

"I know my trade, Avon," snapped Vila. "This is one job I've dreamed about for as long as I remember. Just make sure you do yours." With that, he walked off the flight deck to prepare.

"I do believe you have just been insulted, Avon," laughed Dayna.

Avon smiled. "One must humor the illiterate at times, Dayna."

"Well, at least you won't have to drag him this time," remarked Tarrant, grinning.

#

Exactly 8.5 hours later, Zen's voice boomed, +Destination achieved. Further instructions are now required.+

"Maintain stationary orbit within teleport range, Zen," ordered Avon.

+Confirmed.+

"Tarrant, I want you, Dayna and Cally to remain on board. As soon as Vila and I have teleported down, get the ship out of orbit. I can't believe the Federation would allow the complex to be left unprotected even if the planet has its own defenses."

"Understood. How much time will you need?"

"Give us an hour. Then pick us up." Avon paused. "Whether we've finished or not."

"We'll be done easily in that time," replied Vila with confidence as he checked his equipment.

Avon glanced at him and said, "We shall see. Cally, operate the teleport for us."

Vila gathered up his kit, following Avon and Cally to the station. Grabbing a bracelet, he snapped it on and stepped without hesitation onto the grid.

Even Avon was amazed at his companion's eagerness. Turning to Cally, he said, "Remember, Cally, one hour."

"I will not forget, Avon. I wish I were coming with you."

He smiled. "Someone has to make sure Tarrant keeps his mind on the business at hand."

She nodded. "Be careful."

Avon picked up a bracelet and walked onto the skid, drawing his weapon. "Put us down."

The pair disappeared from the ship and Cally had a sudden unpleasant sensation. A cold chill of foreboding ran through her. She could put no name on it much as she tried. Pushing it aside for the time being, she called the flight deck. "Tarrant, they are down. We can go now."

"All right, Cally," he replied. "Zen, take us out of orbit."

+Confirmed.+

#

The teleport coordinates were set to deliver Avon and Vila outside the complex, and the pair materialized in the shadow of a large triangular shaped building. With Avon keeping watch, Vila ran his fingers along the edge of the doorway, then opened his kit and removed a thin tubular instrument.

A growl from the direction of the trees drew Avon's attention. A large striped animal was moving slowly towards the complex. "Vila, we have company," he warned.

Vila paused, staring in the direction of the noise, then quickened his work. The security system was childishly simple, he thought to himself. But then again, with all those horrible things just waiting their chance to get you, the Federation probably didn't think they would need anything stronger.

The striped shape had left the cover of the trees and was heading straight for their position. Avon turned around for a moment and saw that Vila was still working on the door. "Vila!"

"Keep your shirt on, Avon," retorted Vila. "All this moisture had jammed the impulse release and...." A solid click interrupted his explanation and the door slid open.

Vila picked up his kit and flew inside. Avon followed, closing the door behind them. "How far is the vault from here?" inquired Vila as they moved down the corridor, his eyes searching the walls for monitoring devices.

A scant five meters from the entrance, the men arrived at a crossroads where the hall split into two separate corridors, one leading to the left and the other to the right. "According to Orac," replied Avon in a soft voice. "There are only two passageways in this structure. The vault should be a the end of the left passage."

Long before they reached the door, Vila's nerves were threatening revolt. At last, the massive vault stood before them, its outer casing covered with a strange combination of beauty and the macabre. Graceful nymphs and dragons, winged creatures and bizarre beings decorated the structure.

Vila looked at it curiously. "Strange way to decorate a vault."

"Get on with it," said Avon, looking around. There was a definite aura to the place, something which made even Avon uneasy.

Vila walked to the door and probed the controls. Opening his kit, he removed a small, slender instrument and held it against the door. A soft whine emanated from the instrument, drawing a smile from him. "Beautiful."

"Well?" Avon's patience was wearing thin.

"Have it in a minute," exclaimed Vila in an annoyed tone.

The crystal lights above them pulsed as a hidden monitoring device passed a coded signal. There was a soft whirl and the door swung slowly open. "Not bad, eh?" whispered Vila.

Avon nodded and started forward. He'd taken no more than three steps when Vila grabbed at him.

"Avon, look out."

#

The next few minutes were blank to Avon as he found himself lying outside the vault. "Vila?" he called. No response. Getting to his feet, he peered inside. Vila lay pinned to the floor by a metal lance extending from the ceiling, either unconscious or dead. "Vila!"

Vila stirred as Avon started towards him and opened his eyes. "Don't move," he cried. Avon froze in his tracks. "There's a trip beam across the threshold. Anything breaking the beam sets off the trap." Vila drew a painful breath, then went on. "There should be a bypass neutralizer in my kit."

Avon retreated to the small box, removed the oblong device, and returned to the doorway. "I have it, Vila."

"Line it up with...with the center of the sensor square near the base of the inward panel. There should be a color variation...from green to red." Vila grimaced and closed his eyes.

Avon followed his directions in silence, aware of the precious seconds slipping by. Sliding the instrument carefully into place, he watched as the light slipped to red, then dashed to Vila's side. The lance had passed right through Vila's right shoulder, embedding itself in the floor. With great care, Avon checked the injury. Vila groaned and opened his eyes.

"Don't try to move," Avon told him.

"Stupid," muttered Vila. "Really stupid. Something a rank amateur wouldn't have done."

"As I recall, it was not done intentionally," remarked Avon. "How do you feel?"

Vila wasn't listening. "I should have known. An old style vault like this, Avon. I should have known." His eyes blurred and darkness descended.

#

When he regained consciousness, Avon had torn open his tunic, exposing the wound. Vila wondered how long he'd been out. "How much...." he started to say but changed his mind. "How long before the ship gets back?"

"Forty minutes," replied Avon, checking his chronometer. A sudden spasm of pain nearly drove Vila back into unconsciousness. Avon studied his face, then asked, "Vila, what did you mean, this is an old style vault?"

Vila focused his eyes on Avon. "Booby-traps," he murmured, wincing as Avon accidentally jarred the lance. "Mephisto, they named it right. Maybe he even designed this place." Vila paused and something like fear crossed his face. "Avon, don't touch anything in here."

"I don't intend to." At least not until I get you back up to the ship, Avon thought to himself. His examination of the lance had proved futile; the device was one solid piece. If he tried to melt through it, the entire lance would become white hot, burning anything coming in contact with it, including Vila.

"A youngster I knew once tried to rob something like this," Vila related. "When he didn't come back, I went looking. This thing," indicating the lance, "had him square in the chest. Killed him instantly. Not like me. Not like this." A shudder ran through his body.

"Forget about him, Vila. How do you feel?" Avon demanded.

"Like some damn butterfly on display," he wailed. "How do you expect me to feel?"

Avon let that pass. "Can you move your legs?" Vila stared at him, them complied. "Now try your arms," ordered Avon.

Vila lifted his left arm with ease but when he tried to move his right, pain shot across his face.

Avon sighed. "At least, there is no spinal damage."

Puzzlement crossed Vila's face. "Avon, there should be alarms going off. Why aren't there?"

The computer expert had been too occupied with Vila to even notice. "I don't know," he commented. "Maybe they didn't feel they were necessary."

"Even I can't buy that," mumbled Vila as he looked around the interior of the vault. "No sign of any monitors and no interior devices. I wonder."

"You wonder what?" demanded Avon.

"With all the dampness around here," explained Vila. "It's just possible the computer's auditory system malfunctioned."

"The device holding you was not triggered by a malfunction," retorted Avon.

"I didn't say it was, did I?" Vila shot back. "Oh, I wish I'd stayed on the ship."

But I needed you here, thought Avon as he stood up and searched for some trace of a monitoring device. With the exception of the massive computer terminal which occupied most of the vault, there was nothing else to be seen. Returning to his companion, he asked. "Vila, if I find the master control, can this thing be withdrawn?"

"No," muttered Vila. "Once it's activated, nothing stops it from homing in. It's attracted by movement. Activate the beam and the first motion it senses, sends it flying." Vila shuddered again, this time losing consciousness as blood began seeping out onto the floor from beneath his body.

"Vila?" murmured Avon, touching his companion's face. "Vila?" Avon stood up and made his way back to the hall, one thought in his mind, find that computer. Backtracking to the crossroads, he walked down the right passage. A hidden sensor flashed as Avon passed under its position and a wall slid open before him. "Well, well, well," he whispered, edging his way through the opening.

A mechanical voice broke the silence. "Attention. You are in a restricted area. Give proper identification." Avon kept walking, blaster now in hand. "You are in a restricted area. Identification is required," the voice repeated.

A service drone appeared as Avon rounded the corner. He fired, striking the mechanism's sensor control, leaving it helpless. Avon quickened his step, only to find himself facing a blank wall. Cursing, he turned around and ran right into a force barrier, which knocked him to the floor. The place is full of interesting little diversions, Avon thought as he got to his feet and rubbed a sore arm; then the barrier began moving inward, towards the wall.

Caught between the two, Avon aimed his blaster at the surface of the wall and fired. It exploded, revealing a room filled with panels, data banks, viewscreens and flashing lights. "Access to Guardian is restricted," intoned the same voice he'd heard before. Avon glanced behind him. The force barrier had disappeared. The computer room lay waiting before him, but he paused, remembering the vault. Carefully, he checked the doorway for trip devices but found none.

"Now let's find that sentry device," he said aloud. Walking by a viewscreen, he stopped. The vault's interior was illuminated on it. Vila lay very still, bright crimson staining his tunic. One of the panels in the wall must be a one way monitor. There was no way to tell if Vila was alive or dead, but Avon quickened his search.

Four panels from the door, he halted. In bold letter were the words VAULT SENTRY CONTROL. Avon smiled as he scanned the intricate system. A rather old control station with a few modifications, but nothing posing a problem for him. A green flashing light lay near the indicator. Obviously, that was the device holding Vila. But which switch to remove it? Vila said once activated, it could not be stopped. But Avon didn't want to stop it, just retract it.

Glancing at Vila's image again, he made his choice and threw the switch closest to the indicator. The light flashed red and Vila screamed. Avon rushed to the view in time to see the lance withdrawing from Vila's body.

Avon left the room at a cautious run, fully aware that Vila could bleed to death in the time it took for the lance to withdraw. Something flashed overhead from green to red. "No wonder the mechanism was primed," he murmured, arriving at the vault entrance. A check of the neutralizer showed it was still functioning, the light burning a steady red.

Vila was moaning in pain as Avon knelt beside him, and blood was pouring from a gaping hole in his shoulder. Avon glanced up. The lance had withdrawn into a recess hidden in the ceiling. A thin line of Vila's blood trickled out, marking its secret position.

"Avon," groaned Vila. "What happened?"

"Don't try to talk, Vila," replied Avon. "Keep still while I try to stop the bleeding." Stop it, he thought, how? The gap was at least a decimeter wide. Avon doubled over a piece of cloth and pressed it against the wound. The makeshift bandage was saturated in seconds.

Vila was trembling violently now, going into shock. As he looked down at his companion, Avon wondered if removing the lance had been the right thing to do after all. Holding Vila's trembling form, he checked his chronometer. Twenty minutes before the Liberator would be back.

"Avon?" Vila's voice came faintly. "Gan was the first real friend I ever had. Did you know that?"

"Be quiet and conserve your strength, Vila," he urged.

"I thought I'd never again have another friend like him when he was killed. But I was wrong." Avon stared down at him. A cold sweet had broken out on Vila's face. "I like to believe that Blake was my friend...and I know Cally likes me. But...but...." Pain ran through him, draining what little control he had left. "I wasn't wrong, was I?" Vila's eyes glistened with tears as he looked up at Avon.

His mind is rambling, thought the computer specialist. Delirium, no doubt. "Be quiet," he ordered. "The ship will be here soon and then we'll get you taken care of."

But Vila would not be quiet. "I've always liked you," he murmured. "Even when you shout at me. I need shouting at sometimes, don't I?" he added whimsically.

Avon smiled. "You always have. Now do as I say and shut up." Vila managed a smile, then went limp. Avon checked for a pulse. Weak, very weak. Damn it, he thought, by the time they get here, it will be too late.

#

On board Liberator, Cally had been unable to shake the feeling she'd experienced after Avon and Vila had teleported down. She tried to concentrate on other things, checking the medical supplies and tracing a minor problem within the teleport system, but the urgency of the feeling offered her no rest. Finally, she gave up and walked to the flight deck.

Tarrant and Dayna were talking but broke off when they saw her expression. "Tarrant, I think we should go back now."

"Why?" he inquired. "Avon said one hour. We still have another 15 minutes to go."

"Because there is something wrong," she exclaimed.

"Zen has been sweeping the area, Cally," reported Dayna. "And there's been no sign of any Federation ships."

"I do not believe the danger will come from space," Cally explained.

"What do you mean?" inquired Tarrant.

"It is just a feeling I have. I cannot explain it." Nor could she stand still, but kept pacing as she spoke. Dayna and Tarrant exchanged worried glances. "Please, Tarrant, we must go back.

Tarrant looked at Cally's face, seeing the concern and fear. "All right, Cally. Zen, reverse course. We're going back to Mephisto."

+Confirmed.+

#

Avon was startled to hear Cally's voice over the communicator. "Avon?"

"Cally? What are you...." he began, then stopped. "I'm glad you're back. Vila's been badly hurt. He needs immediate treatment."

"Do you want me to teleport you up?" she asked, looking at the surprised faces surrounding her at the teleport station.

"No, I would prefer you to check him here first. His condition may not allow it."

Tarrant silently removed two bracelets, handed Cally one and nodded to Dayna as the pair stepped onto the skid. "Cally and I are ready to teleport, Avon," he called into his bracelet.

"Lock onto my signal. You should be able to teleport right into the vault."

Dayna adjusted the controls, then signaled Avon. "Teleporting now," came Dayna's voice over the bracelet.

Avon relaxed a bit. They were at least ten minutes early. Why? And Cally had sounded worried before he even mentioned Vila's injury. He looked down at the pale form he was holding and wondered. How had she known?

#

Cally and Tarrant appeared, weapons in hand, inside the vault. But the Auron forgot everything when she saw Vila and hurried to his side. "My God, Avon, what happened to him?"

"I'll explain later," he replied, moving aside so she could check Vila.

"Down and safe, Dayna," Tarrant called into his bracelet, then turned to look at the computer terminal. "So, that's the money machine."

"Yes," remarked Avon, following his gaze. "Keep an eye on the corridor. I don't need any more surprises."

Tarrant glanced at Vila and nodded, moving towards the open vault door. Peering down the corridor, he saw Vila's kit, still open and lying where Vila had left it.

While Vila was being attended to, Avon moved toward the terminal. He easily bypassed the computer security code, then inserted a coded message. Multicolored lights reflected in his eyes as the message was received by the Federation Banking Commission's central computer. There was a pause as the user's code was verified, then formal acknowledgement of the transaction. Avon turned back to his companions, a smile on his face.

Cally's analysis of Vila's condition, however, was not encouraging. "He's lost so much blood, Avon. I don't think he can survive the teleport."

"We don't have a choice now," exclaimed Tarrant, running back into the vault with Vila's kit in one hand, his blaster in the other. A service drone was advancing down the hall towards the vault. Tarrant ducked and fired, disabling it, but another drone was right behind the first.

"We'll have to chance it, Cally." Avon looked down at Vila and activated his bracelet. "Dayna, bring us up."

The service drone fired but the blast struck nothing. As it entered, its bulk forced the neutralizer aside, tripping the sentry mechanism. The bloody lance slammed with such force into the drone's metal casing, that it exploded into flames. Flames which spread to the contents of the vault.

#

Materializing on board, Cally checked Vila. There was a faint pulse. "He's still alive," she murmured, as Avon carefully picked the bleeding thief up from the floor and followed Cally to the Medical Unit. Dayna looked at Tarrant who shrugged.

"Your guess is as good as mine," he replied to her unspoken question. "Check with Zen. See if there's any Federation ships in the area."

"All right," she answered with worried eyes, then headed for the flight deck while Tarrant made his way to the Medical Unit.

In the Medical Unit, Cally cut Vila's bloody tunic from his body while Avon conferred with the med computer on his condition.

"Subject has suffered extreme blood loss, tissue damage and trauma," advised the computer using Zen's voice. "Immediate stability is required."

With Tarrant watching the monitor, they cleaned the wound. Bits of cloth had been driven deep into Vila's body by the force of the lance and had to be located and removed. Cartilage and muscle had also been torn and severed and had to be sewn back together. Vila remained unconscious during the operation, making their work a great deal easier. Cally had just finished setting up a plasma unit when Dayna came in.

"Zen reports some type of fire in the Center, Avon," she announced. "It's engulfing the whole complex."

Tarrant smiled. "Looks like we didn't lose after all."

Avon looked up and frowned. "No, we didn't."

"Then there will be no evidence left to connect us with the robbery," commented Dayna.

"Ah, but there will be an investigation," corrected Avon.

"And?" inquired Tarrant.

"And it will show that a rather large amount of currency was transferred to a certain party's private account just before the fire," explained the computer expert.

"Servalan?" asked Tarrant with an innocent look on his face.

Avon smiled. "I think it's time to leave, Tarrant. No doubt the alarm has been given and Federation ships are on their way. Dayna, I want you to have Orac monitor all Federation frequencies." She nodded and they left for the flight deck.

Avon turned back to Cally as she finished dressing the wound. "What are his chances, Cally?"

She looked up and shook her head. "I don't know. He's lost a great deal of blood. What happened to him?"

Avon hesitated before answering. "I was careless," he admitted, his eyes dark with emotion. "He opened the vault and I started in. If Vila hadn't pushed me back...."

"It would have been you?"

He nodded. "Vila said something about hidden traps activated by trip beams. The whole place had a feel about it which was disturbing. I've never seen anything like it." Silence fell between them, then Avon looked down at his hands and clothing as if just aware of the blood on them. "I'd better get cleaned up."

Cally saw the concern in his eyes as he left the room but chose not to comment on it. Returning her attention to Vila, she gently brushed the hair from his forehead. His skin felt cool to the touch, his breathing, shallow. The wound in itself was serious, but not fatal. It was the blood he'd lost and the shock to his system, there lay the danger. Drawing up a chair, she sat down and took Vila's hand in her own, trying to will strength into his trembling body.

#

Four hours passed, the door opened and Avon entered. He'd washed and changed clothes but obviously had not rested. "How is he?" he asked.

"The same," she replied, looking up. "You have not slept?" He shook his head. "Avon, you cannot help him this way. It is up to Vila now."

Avon spoke with his eyes resting on Vila. "I'll be on the flight deck."

"But Tarrant can...." She stopped. Avon needed to keep his mind occupied until Vila's condition was determined one way or the other. "If there is a change, I will contact you," she acknowledged. Avon nodded, then left the room.

Walking through the corridor, Vila's words echoed in his mind. No doubt shock had clouded his reasoning for him to say such things. Whatever reasoning Vila was capable of, that is. And yet, the more Avon thought about it, the more he was forced to face the truth. He liked Vila. And had since the pair of them had swindled that casino, maybe even before. He was irritating, irrational and troublesome most of the time, and yet, Avon found his company preferable to Tarrant's or even Dayna's on occasion. But to find out that Vila felt the same towards him was startling.

"Looks like we left just in time, Avon," reported Dayna as he walked down the steps. "Scanners indicate there's at least eight Federation ships converging on the Center."

"That should shake up the banking system somewhat," remarked Tarrant with a smile. Then, seeing Avon's expressionless face, he added. "How's Vila?"

"No change," advised Avon.

"What happened down there, Avon?" asked Dayna with concern.

"A case of carelessness," came the quiet reply.

"And I thought Vila was the best!" joked Tarrant.

Avon glared at him before speaking. "No one said it was Vila's fault."

Tarrant wisely decided to change the subject. "So, what's next on the agenda?"

Avon ignored the question and turned to Dayna. "Has Orac picked up any unusual transmissions?"

"Nothing," replied Dayna. "As far as I can tell, the fire's being blamed on a malfunctioning service drone which somehow got into the vault."

"Then the plan may go better than I expected," mused Avon, walking over to his seat.

"What now?" asked Tarrant, moving down from the pilot's position.

"We find a nice quiet place to rest, I hope," suggested Dayna. "I've had enough excitement for a while."

"A quiet place, yes," confirmed Avon, facing Zen's flickering lights. "But one from which we can watch Servalan's moves. Zen, course deviation to Zeiman III. Speed--standard by four."

+Confirmed,+ acknowledged the computer.

Turning to his companions, he added in a quiet voice, "Why don't you two get some sleep? I'll take the watch."

Both of them were startled. "Avon, it's you who needs the rest," exclaimed Dayna.

"Your concern has been noted, Dayna. Now, leave me."

"Look, Avon," began Tarrant, then stopped. From the expression on his face, it was obvious Avon wanted to be alone. "Come along, Dayna."

"But Tarrant!"

"No buts, Dayna," he insisted. "We've been relieved. Anyway, you promised to show me that new gun you've designed."

Dayna's worried eyes lingered on Avon. "It's not quite ready yet," she told Tarrant.

"Then let's see what you've got done," he urged, taking her arm.

Avon watched the pair depart, welcoming the silence and solitude. Settling into his seat, he tried to concentrate on what Servalan's reaction would be when the High Council found over one hundred billion credits in her personal account. But his thoughts kept turning to Vila and what he had said in the vault. Avon tried to convince himself Vila was delirious, the pain had affected his mind, but it just didn't work. Vila had meant what he said and no amount of rationalizing could erase that.

#

In the Medical Unit, Vila's vital signs improved a bit and Cally was hopeful for the first time. His condition was far from certain but at least some progress had been made.

The wall comm signalled and the Auron moved to answer it. "Cally, how is he?"

"There's been a slight improvement, Avon." Her tone was non-committal. "But it's still too early to tell."

"I see."

Cally heard weariness and something else in his voice. "Avon, you must not blame yourself. What happened to Vila was not your fault."

"Perhaps," he returned, watching the blackness of space slip by on the forward viewer.

"Will you please get some rest? Zen will alert us if there's any trouble."

He smiled wanly. "In a little while, Cally." Switching off the costs, he leaned back and closed his eyes. The image of Vila impaled by the lance would not leave his mind.

#

Six hours after leaving Mephisto, Vila Restal opened blurry eyes only to close them again as the glaring light overhead struck. Squinting until he grew accustomed to his surroundings, Vila saw Cally asleep on the adjacent med couch. Obviously he was on board the Liberator.

Vila felt very, very sleepy and his shoulder ached, but the pain was nowhere near what it had been. The last thing he remembered was...was what? His mind drew a blank. The security device striking and an image of Avon hovering over him came to mind, but beyond that, nothing. He reached up to rub his shoulder.

The movement woke Cally who intercepted Vila's hand. "Don't, Vila," she scolded, her face lined with fatigue and worry. "You'll damage the new skin. How do you feel?"

"I ache. That is, my shoulder aches something fierce," he complained. He looked around and added worriedly, "Where's Avon? Is he all right?"

"He's fine," she advised, smiling at the relief in his eyes. "As for your shoulder, some of the muscle tissue was torn up along with a good portion of skin. It will be tender for a while but there was no permanent damage."

"I'm glad to hear that," he sighed, wincing a bit as he moved his arm. "I'm afraid I really botched it this time."

"In what way, Vila?"

"I was so sure of myself. Master thief, no lock I couldn't open, and I forgot a simple security device," he said angrily.

"That's not the way Avon tells it," she explained. "He said it was his fault."

Vila's face brightened. "He did?"

"Yes."

"He wasn't delirious or anything when he said it, was he?" Avon rarely admitted making mistakes and never where it involved Vila.

"No, I do not believe so," she replied, puzzled at the expression on Vila's face.

The wall comm beckoned. "Cally?" Avon's voice sounded very tired. "Has there been any change?"

Cally smiled and walked over to the comm. "He's regained consciousness, Avon. I think he'll be fine."

"Thought you were rid of me, didn't you?" called Vila.

Vila could not see the expression of relief which crossed Avon's face nor his smile at Vila's remark. "What makes you think I care one way or the other?" Avon snapped back.

Vila looked dismayed. "Well, if I were gone, who would you fight with?"

Avon replied without hesitation, "Tarrant, although his arguments would probably make a good deal more sense than yours. Out."

Cally could not help but laugh at Vila's rueful expression. "Sleep is what you need now, Vila. So, go to sleep."

"You sound just like Avon, Cally," he grimaced.

"Sleep, or do you wish...." She held up a sedative.

"No, no. I don't need that." I already feel like a pin cushion, he thought to himself.

She smiled and dimmed the light. "Good night."

"Good night, Cally," he mumbled and closed his eyes.

#

Voices penetrated his sleep, rousing Vila to consciousness. "He'll be all right, Avon," whispered Cally. "How many times do I have to tell you? His shoulder was torn up a bit, but it will heal. Somehow, that mechanism managed to miss all the vital organs."

"Yes," remarked Avon. "Vila said someone in his youth wasn't so fortunate."

Damn, thought Vila to himself. When did I mention him? Vila tried to remember, but his mind refused to work.

Cally's voice drew his attention. "You haven't slept in sixteen hours. You're exhausted, Avon. Will you get some rest now?" Avon smiled at her, then nodded. "I will in a minute. Go along now." Cally lingered for a moment, then left the room. Silently, Avon approached the couch and looked down at Vila. In a quiet voice, he murmured, "You weren't wrong, Vila, I do like you."

Vila was so startled he nearly opened his eyes and had to fight to keep himself still. Only after he heard the door close, did he dare open them. Wonder crossed his face, then he smiled. "I'm glad, Avon, because I like you, too." With a sigh, he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.


End file.
